Past Musings
by Windswift
Summary: Yami Bakura muses about the beatings of his hikari, about such things that no one understands. But him. Oneshot fic.


This is my first actual fic, brought to you by someone who has never seen the show, and has only fanfics and a few shrines to rely on. Doesn't that just instill you with confidence? ^^ Please tell me if there's anything I can do to improve it in the future. It is a one-shot, so I doubt I'll be adding chapters or anything.  
  
Disclaimer- Windswift: Yu-Gi-Oh doesn't own me anymore! I'm no longer a prisoner! Yay!!! Yami: O.o but I wasn't holding you captive as one of my slaves . . .  
  
((+)~  
  
Past Musings  
  
"Weakling!" Bakura shouted, and Ryou found himself being thrown into his desk. Tears leaked out of the corners of his tightly shut eyes.  
  
The enraged yami continued to hit the boy. A bruise was already appearing on his cheek from a particularly hard slap.  
  
"You want to be friends with the Pharaoh and his pathetic hikari?! I'll make a note to send you to the Shadow Realm with them!" he sneered cruelly.  
  
Bakura picked the white-haired teen up by the collar and threw him into the wall. Ryou slid to the floor, limp, his head sagging forward onto his chest. Giving the unconscious boy a final parting kick, Yami Bakura retreated to his soul room and the thoughts that began to plague him.  
  
(Bakura's Pov)  
  
I can hear Ryou whimpering even while he's out of it. Pathetic. I can feel his pain at the edge of my mind like a double-edged sword, hurting and invigorating me.  
  
Why do I beat him? I laugh as I ponder this, because it deeply amuses me that no one understands. They don't care to look past the evil Tomb Robber. Perhaps the only one who even has a faint sense of a clue is Ryou. Maybe that's why the weakling always forgives me.  
  
Forgiveness! Another one of his feeble traits. Yet maybe he isn't that weak. But it still cuts to my soul all the same.  
  
Ryou hurts me. His innocents, to know that I was once like that, and to know for all these bitter 5,ooo years that I've changed. The world changed me.  
  
But Ryou managed to stay innocent.  
  
It hurts me more than anything to know that he, that fool weakling, has managed to do what I, for all my strength and cunning, cannot. And I take it out on that very symbol of my failure.  
  
But they just say I'm evil. Who are they to judge? Couldn't we say the same for the despicable pharaoh?  
  
They all see power as greed. But if I have power, who can harm me? Who can hurt me anymore, who can cause me pain? The Pharaoh _had_ power, he didn't have a life like mine. His past was different.  
  
But if he understood, he'd tell me to forget the past. Live in the present. However, I intend to keep my selfish attachment to my past and its memories. To me. I won't forget who I am. Otherwise, I'd have nothing to be.  
  
So I beat Ryou. I want to beat that pathetic mask right off his face. He _knows_ his life is not very good. But damn him, he persistently keeps up that sweet and caring nature. He consistently tries to forget himself and devote his concern to others, including me, selflessly. He's stayed innocent, and I could not.  
  
We were much the same, but I became dark. Ryou is light. I've tried to rid myself of every remembrance of the pain of that failure, but he stubbornly stays as a little hikari.  
  
Fate has not been all that kind to us . . .  
  
Ryou has fallen asleep now, his breathing soft and regular. He looks like an angel. No, he _is_ an angel. I've fallen, and he's stayed strong.  
  
Everyone sympathizes the child. But no one's looked beyond that. They look in my eyes and see only the rage, but don't look any farther. Then again, I don't want them to see the pain. They see Ryou's marks from his beatings, and shake their heads over how much he's hurting. It's never occurred to them that it's because of how much I'm hurting.  
  
But that doesn't matter. I don't want their pity.  
  
These moods pass me like the calm after a storm and before another. I wish they were gone - I prefer the sadistic joy of everyone's pain instead of the single bitter and helpless dwelling in my own.  
  
Because I don't want their pity.  
  
(3rd person Pov)  
  
Ryou awoke, wincing, and began to tend to himself. Washing and covering his wounds, he noted the cuts and bruises he'd have to hide when the morning of tomorrow dawned.  
  
Going back to his room, he paused by the window and looked out at the night sky. The black heavens soared above him, dotted with stars. Funny how they looked so cold and distant, glinting like frozen flames, yet were a symbol of hope to many.  
  
As he crawled into bed, before letting sleep take him once more, a single though slipped out of his mind.  
  
/Gomen nassai, Bakura/  
  
((+)~  
  
Windswift: well, please review and tell me what you thought. Constructive criticism welcome, but as always, try not to flame. If you don't like it, don't read it, and don't tell me about it. My goal in life is not to please those people.  
  
Ryelle: besides, I lent Bakura my extra flamethrower. We, or I at least, like to return the favor of flames, especially those directed to my hikari.  
  
Bakura: (has evil grin on his face) mwahahhahah, where's my next victim . . .?  
  
Windswift: O.o anywayyy . . . I hope you enjoyed this, and I'll try not to let the yamis get loose on the world . . . 


End file.
